Admittedly, Louis doesn't know much about love.
That sounds kind of bad, but to be fair, he hasn't exactly had enough relationships to explore the concept of love very thoroughly. Affection, adoration, devotion... Shallow connections and hookups aren't very conducive to these emotions.
The only time he has ever said "I love you" to someone that isn't his mother, or his nan, or his sisters, is during sex. Quite fitting, isn't it? The man branded as a slut and a whore, has never confessed his love in a non-explicit setting. It makes sense. The point is, saying I love youwhile falling over the crest of one's orgasm is hardly a real declaration of love. It's safe to say Louis doesn't know anything about real love.
He does know one truth, though, and that truth is this:
Oftentimes, love ends.
Mostly, it isn't much of a challenge to to determine when it ends. Coldness, apathy, contempt, and on and on are all signs of love ending. It's sad, but the honest truth. Not everything is bulletproof, not everything is eternal.
A more difficult question for consideration:
When does love begin?
And even more burdensome:
How can one tell if it's even real?
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Undone, Undress (Larry Stylinson)
FanfictionLouis' new roommate is shy, skittish, and flinches at the slightest sounds. He's an art major who gets drunk on cherry wine, wears lacy lingerie, and shows up late at night covered in bruises that blossom across his skin like flowers. Obviously some...
